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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26852317">Struggles in Existing</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arcane_Apparition/pseuds/Arcane_Apparition'>Arcane_Apparition</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>31 Days of Wayhaven 2020 [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Body Image, Gen, Self-Esteem Issues, abby has self esteem issues, farah's the best friend you could ask for</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 16:49:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>842</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26852317</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arcane_Apparition/pseuds/Arcane_Apparition</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s Farah’s mirror. A full length one she dragged in and propped against the wall when she realized Abby didn’t have on anywhere in the room -(an intentional choice, one she made after dealing with a certain supernatural that didn’t understand personal boundaries). </p>
<p>She frowns at her reflection. Going so long without seeing herself it becomes easy to simply...exist. A disconnect between her body and her mind. She drifts through the day without thinking anything about herself. But now, staring at her reflection, she can’t help but look at every flaw she wished she could will away.</p>
<p>(Day 3 of '31 Days of Wayhaven'. Prompt: Mirror)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>31 Days of Wayhaven 2020 [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1957801</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Struggles in Existing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Farah can we </span>
  <em>
    <span>stop</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not yet! You haven’t even tried anything on!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because you’re throwing all my clothes on the floor!” Abby tosses her hands in the air, watching Farah’s figure vanish back into her closet again. She’s digging far enough back now that all she can see is her mismatched socks poking out: a purple one with unicorns and a green one with polka dots.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not my fault your entire closet is all the same!” Her voice is muffled. Lost in the clothes she’s buried herself into. She grabs a shirt that apparently doesn’t pass her inspection, tossing it out behind her to join the mess on the clothes. “Seriously Abby? How many jackets do you </span>
  <em>
    <span>need</span>
  </em>
  <span>? And another black button up?” Another shirt gets thrown out, a casualty to be added to the floor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’s not sure what spurred Farah into deciding she needed to ransack her closet. She’d just been lounging in the living room and keeping to herself when she comes bounding through the door and drags her out by her arm. She decided she needed ‘cheering up’ and ‘a bit of a change’ as she dragged her down the hallway to her room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Abby scowls at the mess, “Are you going to help me clean all this up at least?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What even is this?” She dodges the answer and leans back out, holding up a dark grey hoodie as if it personally offended her. “Elidor could wear this!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>tall</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not that tall.” She counters, tossing the jacket down. “Seriously do you know what color is? Your closet is as dark as Morgan’s!’ </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Abby chews at her lower lip. “Black is a color.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A boring one.” She turns around to continue her rummaging. Something thunks from the closet that she’s sure is one of her storage bins hitting the ground. “Nothing’s broken!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Abby sighs and shifts on her feet, throwing an uncomfortable glance towards the mirror she’s in front of. Farah seemed determined to keep her on her feet; every time she went to sit down she was pulled back up again. She never got an answer </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> she needed to stay in front of the mirror, but it makes her uncomfortable all the same.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s Farah’s mirror. A full length one she dragged in and propped against the wall when she realized Abby didn’t have on anywhere in the room -(an intentional choice, one she made after dealing with a certain supernatural that didn’t understand personal boundaries). </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She frowns at her reflection. Going so long without seeing herself it becomes easy to simply...exist. A disconnect between her body and her mind. She drifts through the day without thinking anything about herself. But now, staring at her reflection, she can’t help but look at every flaw she wished she could will away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her short hair is standing up in all directions. Cut short in a fit of frustration that she never let it grow back from, it decided in a fit of rebellion to never be tamed. She has what she has decided to name a ‘constant state of bedhead’. She’s got dark circles under her eyes. The kind of purple that no amount of makeup or sleep could get rid of. She hides herself in layers, button ups and jackets that bury any semblance of a figure. She’s...frumpy. Messy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With no distractions, every problem and flaw she wishes she could will away glares back at her like a bright neon sign.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This wasn’t about your clothes, you know that?” Farah is at her side suddenly. She snaps her gaze from her own reflection to look at her in the mirror. Tucked against her side like she is, she barely reaches her shoulders. Her bright eyes are dimmed, brows furrowed. “That’s not what this was about.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really?” Abby asks, raising a brow at that to try and break the tense air that’s building. “Because for the past hour you’ve made it clear this was </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> because of my clothes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shakes her head. The intensity in her gaze makes the tension raise. Farah is the lighthearted one, the walking ball of sunshine that always makes her smile. Something about the level of seriousness leaves her feeling odd. “Look you could wear a tarp if you wanted. It’s about the confidence behind it. You hide behind all this though.” She waves around at the clothes scattered around them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She blinks. Farah’s own gaze doesn’t break from her. “Farah that was…” She isn’t even sure what word she’s looking for. Serious? Intense? She feels like she’s under a microscope.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You might not like what you see, but we all do.” She continues, poking her in the side as she speaks and making her jump.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I...thank you?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Farah beams at her, the smile that makes her amber eyes light up. The tense bubble in the room pops, fades away as quickly as it formed. “Don’t worry about it. Can I paint your nails now?” She laughs at that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure. Help me clean all this up first.”</span>
</p>
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